The Unseen
by BrendaCo
Summary: This is my first attempt at writing fanfiction. Carla finds out what Peter has been up to behind her back. Hope you enjoy it :) Reviews would be GREATLY appreciated! x
1. Chapter 1

1.

The wind battered her body, but Carla couldn't care less. The day was finally over and she only had one thing on her mind. Her head was throbbing relentlessly, but she tried to ignore it and focused on that one big order she had just signed with Macnee.

The business had been going under, but finally, after having spent the last few days gallivanting from one meeting to another trying to secure an order, she had finally managed to find a way to save them and keep them afloat for the next few weeks.

It was still early days, but the business was finally recuperating after Hayley's loss.

"_The Livingstons are expecting their bloomin' order on Tuesday…" she had told them, trying to hold in her tears, even though her voice was cracking with every word that came out of her mouth. It had been hard to keep up her façade on that day. Seeing everyone gathered round Hayley's machine had only made it worse. She was half expecting Hayley to walk in on them at any minute asking them what they were sulking about with that gentle heartwarming smile on her face. _

"_So I think if…," Peter interrupted her knowing how hard it was for her, "if I explain the situation to them, I'm sure they wouldn't mind extending the deadline. If not, then I'm not sure we'd want to do business with them anyway, would we? And I'll sort that out." He looked down at Carla knowing he had to be there for her, and do all he could for her. He'd wronged her in the past, but regardless of all he'd done, it broke him seeing her like that for he still loved her. "So that's it then. Factory closed for today."_

_If only it was half as easy as Peter had made it sound it would be. Peter left soon after; his fatherly duties calling out to him. Meanwhile, Carla stayed at Underworld. She had insisted she was fine, and with a slight nod he was gone. As much as she had wanted to lie in his hands and let him hold her, she had also yearned to be on her own. Talking to Roy had reminded her of her own past; of Paul and Liam. She knew how he was feeling. She had been there many times before. That kind of love wasn't something that ever faded away. As her words had come out she could see them all lined up in front of her—all the people she had once cared about but had now lost; "she's always going to be right here," she had told him, "with you. Right here. What made Hayley special to you, what you treasured about her, will stay right here with you. Nobody's going to take that away ever." She had begrudged Paul for what he had done to her for so long, but when life had been tough she had always found herself wishing that he would appear and hold her in his arms. He was her first savior; the one who had saved her from the desperate life at home. As for Liam, thinking about him was enough to bring all the pain of losing him back. She loved Peter with all her heart. She often felt as though Liam had sent him to her to help her through what life had thrown at her. The two of them were the loves of her life, but as much as she loved Peter, she knew no one would ever fill that hole that Liam had left. Peter had simply occupied another big part of her heart, without which she knew she wouldn't be there. Memories played in her mind, as a sob racked her body and she found herself in tears again. _

_An hour later, she was still sat in the same place, with a bottle of whiskey staring at her. She longed for her lips to kiss the neck of the bottle, but she tried to submerge her craving by thinking of Peter. She couldn't do it to him. She didn't want to let the bottle be the one source of relinquishing her from her feelings. She knew that once the first bottle was down, she would only crave for that same sense of relief the next day and the day after that. She knew that if that was to happen, it was more than likely that she would end up taking Peter down with her. He had already confessed to her, not more than a month ago, that he had been craving a glass of that demonic golden liquid. She wouldn't bare it if he fell off his wagon again. It had taken him ages to recuperate and he had been doing so well._

_She got up from her chair, and went to peep out of the office's window, out to the factory floor. The place was deserted. Silence echoed in that dark stillness; a darkness that was broken by the sole light coming from the desk lamp on Hayley's old machine. She had always admired Hayley. She was everything she wasn't. She always kept her cool. She was always smiling. She always knew what to say or do, like the time she had held her hand after Frank had done the unspeakable. She was optimistic. She was brave and kind and she knew how to love. A noise suddenly halted her thoughts; thoughts that had racked her face with new tears. It took her a few seconds to realise that it was coming from her own pursed lips. As she finally let herself cry, a voice whispered in her head convincing her to pour a glass of whiskey down her throat. _

_Half a bottle down, and tired of crying, she finally started to calm down, and leaned forward for her phone. The back of her hands wiped away her eyes, as she searched her contacts for Livingston's number, transferring her make up to her hands and creating a bigger black smudge on her face. She breathed in heavily, taking another sip from the bottle to calm her nerves, as she pressed the green button._

_Her cold mask was back on, as she tried to explain the situation as briefly as possible. She was left fuming as they left her on hold for what felt like an hour, before finally deciding that it wasn't something they could discuss over the phone, and leaving her with no say in the matter, they set a meeting for an hour's time._

_The traffic had been a nightmare, and she arrived there five minutes late. She had barely had time to sort through the paper work, and gather the necessary papers from the mess that was her desk, along with sorting herself out. With a strong black coffee in hand, she had made her way to the car cursing Peter for not carrying through with his promise. _

"_Talk of the devil," she whispered to herself as soon as she had reversed the car into the street as her phone started ringing and Peter's name came up across the screen. Keeping her eyes on the road, she put it on speakerphone, as he inquired about her whereabouts._

"_So much for I'll sort that out, ay Peter?" she breathed down the phone angrily._

"_Simon needed me," he uttered, kicking himself for leaving her in this mess._

"_So do I. Only I have to drive down for a flamin' meeting while you're sat at home doin' what?" she said furiously, feeling her bottled emotions rising again. "I ought to remind you, this was your idea Peter not mine."_

"_I was going to call them tomorrow," he said calmly, as she heard him sigh from the other end of the line. It took her a lot of self control and effort to not throw her phone out the window. His calmness was getting on her nerves. "I can call them and reschedule the meeting," he then added._

_She shook her head, "oh and that'd make it so much better, wouldn't it?"_

"_I'll talk to them. I'm sure they'll understand love."_

_She hissed. "Oh I'm sure they will. They practically bounced at my idea when I called. That's how understanding they were. Why do you think I'm on the way there right now, ay?"_

"_Give me the address and I'll meet you there."_

"_Fat load of good that'd do. Too late for that, don't you think?" _

_He yearned to help her. "Come on Car."_

"_Peter, I'm trying to salvage this order," she breathed down the phone angrily, "not make things worse." She looked down at her watch, and pressed her foot down. "I'm already late as it is."_

"_I'm sorry love," she heard him whisper, as she ended the call._


	2. Chapter 2

_2._

_She yearned for Peter to be right. The drink had encouraged her to make that call, but those effects were now weaning off her, making way for the pain that was now drilling into her head._

"_Mrs. Co…Barlow," her client uttered, as she found herself loosing focus._

_She shook her head. "Repeat that will you."_

"_Look Carla… Can I call you that?" he said._

_She nodded faking on a smile._

"_We can't make deals with people who won't stick to their end of their deal. We're trying to run a business here." She narrowed her eyes, not liking the sound of what he was saying. "Now we'll already be set back by a few days by this delay, we cannot afford to make the same mistake twice. You might have not realized this, but we run a very professional business here."_

"_Yeah, as do we. I can assure you it will only cost you a day or two, for which Underworld will do good for." She looked him in the eyes, before rising her hand to her hair, and slowly played with a strand of hair, trying to flirt her way through it. "I promise you that."_

"_Your partner promised the order would be finished days before the deadline too, so you see why I have a problem with believing your promises."_

"_Ay my partner isn't me, is he?" Carla retorted._

_He shook his head with a smile. _

_She plastered on a grin. "So what do you say? Shall we shake hands on it or what?"_

"_Not so fast Carla."_

"_Ay? I can even draw up a new contact for you, if you like," she said quickly, noting her tone of desperation in her voice. She couldn't wait to get back to her car._

"_I don't think I can risk it," he said, as he stood up and walked towards her. "I wouldn't like for something similar to happen again."_

"_I can assure you it's a one off," she said irritated, before pausing to look at him. "Look one of our machinists passed away…"_

_He interrupted her. "I'm sorry for your loss, but we do run a successful business here. Those things do happen… every now and then. You just keep going."_

"_What do you expect me to do?" She flung her hands up, her voice going up a notch, "Bring her back from the dead?"_

_He smirked. "That'd be helpful wouldn't it?" he laughed._

_Her eyes glinted with anger. "How dare he laugh?" she thought to herself, as images of Hayley's frail, cold, white body lying on her deathbed came to mind. She urged herself to walk away before he infuriated her further. _

_She stood up, but as she walked towards the door, he grabbed her arm. She jumped under his grip._

"_Before you go…," he started, "we still need to sort the consequences of this demeanor."_

_His grin brought another face to mind. She mentally kicked herself. It had been more than two years and occasionally, she still found herself thinking of him. _

_Suddenly it was him who was standing there with a hold on her arm. She could no longer hear what her client was saying. It was replaced with Frank's taunting as he smiled as she squirmed beneath his relentless grip._

_She wasn't aware of what happened next. One minute it was Frank holding her tightly, his fingers piercing into his arms, and the next her client was lying on the floor surrounded by papers and broken glass. She was shaking, holding her bag fiercely in her hands ready to assault him with it._

_Her hand rose towards her mouth. "I'm sorry," she whispered, mortified at what she had done. _

"_What was that all about?" he retaliated. _

_She shook her head, unsure of what to do next. This wasn't her. She had never behaved like this; not with a client. She put out her hand, offering to help me out, but he shrugged her off. "I'm fine," he uttered dismissively._

_She nodded, before scurrying out of the office, past those who had heard the commission and had congregated outside his office, towards her car._

_With tears welling in her eyes, her trembling hands grabbed the steering wheel. She couldn't wait to get out of there. Her mind wasn't there, and it reflected in her careless driving. Cars honked at her, bringing her out of her hazed state. Her phone suddenly started ringing, bringing her out of her reserve. Peter's name flashed on it, as she argued with herself whether or not to take the call. She stopped the car at the side of the street. She yearned for the bottle of whiskey she had left in her office. The sobs and tears came out as fluidly as water dripping from a leak. Her head dropped onto the steering wheel as she kept ignoring Peter's calls yearning to be left alone, hoping he hadn't been informed about her actions. She promised herself she'd sort it out on her own, she couldn't face telling him, or anyone else, what had happened. For all she knew hard faced Carla had stormed out of his office as soon as he had refused to give them an extension. There had been no acts of desperation, no struggles. __**That**__ was the version she was going to give. Underworld would do fine without the Livingstons. She'd do anything to make sure of that. _

It had been anything but easy to keep to that promise. Word of what had happened had gone out to other companies. For a while, few were the ones who had been willing to sign contracts with her. Peter had heard about it, but she had downright denied it. It was true it had gone out of hand, but no one around her knew to what extent. She was as people often liked to remind her, a right stroppy mare, so she had a reputation to live up to. No one blamed her, for Hayley's loss had all of Coronation Street in tears. For a while, the only orders Underworld had received were small ones that couldn't go too wrong. She had been reluctant to fill in Hayley's place, and with no one there, apart from her, to keep the machinists in check they had been slacking in their work. To add to that, she had also been forced to pay Livingston for their losses.

But now, finally, if everything went right with this Macnee order, she knew she'd gain back the trust of many other companies, and Underworld would be back on track. She was bursting to get home to give Peter the news. He had promised he'd be there, but she knew something must have come up. It was probably something to do with Simon. As much as he degraded himself when it came to his fathering role in Si's life, she was proud of the relationship he had with his son. It was something that she could only dream of when she was Simon's age. The love Peter had for Simon was one of the qualities that had first attracted her to him. He was so gentle and caring with him. Even though he didn't always know how to show it, she knew his son would always come first for him, and she loved him for that. It was just a reflection of the man she had fallen in love with.


	3. Chapter 3

3.

As she neared the bookies' flat, Carla fished in her bag for her keys. Who would have told her three years ago that she'd be living in this building. As small as the flat was, and although it lacked some of the little commodities she'd had in her old place, it contained all she ever wanted. Three years ago, she used to look at this place and the inhabitants within it and yearn to be there with Peter instead of Saint Leanne. It always irked her how Leanne lusted over Nick, whilst she had Peter at her side, and then one small move from her towards him had started off the next World War.

She had never thought it'd be possible for her heart to pound so mercilessly all over again after Liam. She had cursed going to the Alcohol support group and meeting Peter there so many times before.

"_I'd like you to leave," she uttered, looking up at those mushy brown eyes that were looking at her pleadingly asking her to let him help her. _

"_But I want to help you," Peter said. He had been in her position so he knew all too well how confused she must have been feeling. The way she had fled, along with the stink of alcohol in her breath, only confirmed it to him. _

_She could see he meant it, but a laugh couldn't help escape her mouth. She had no idea why she was laughing so much, especially when all she wanted to do was scream at everyone and everything around her. "Who does he think he is?" she thought, yearning to be left alone. "I don't need your help, do I? You see, cause unlike you and your alchy classmates," she said, shaking her head talking to herself as much as to him, "I'm not waking up pouring vodka on my cornflakes, or shaking so much I can't put my lippy on in the morning. Alright? See I drink when I want to, and when I don't, I can stop." She couldn't understand what had made her even think of going to that support group. She didn't have a problem. She was Carla Connor. She didn't need anyone's help. "Now like I've said, I've just had the day from hell. You're not making it much better. Okay, so take your advice and your shoulder to cry on. Please get out of my factory."_

"_Okay."_

_Her lips uttered an incoherent utterance in agreement._

"_If that's what you want," he whispered._

"_That's what I want," she practically shouted, not sure whether she was speaking to him, or yelling so as to hear herself through the drumming that was going on in her ears, and so as to try and convince herself. She nodded her head a few times. As Peter left her office, she could feel herself shaking. _

_His words were still ringing in her ears. "I want to help you", he had said. His deep brown eyes were loving, gentle and warm. His smile encouraging. "Leanne's struck pure gold", she found herself thinking._

From that first time he had tried to help her, something within her had changed. There were times when walking down those cobbles had been unbearable, and all she had wanted to do was launch herself at him. Whenever she saw him, her heart leaped in its place, but she tried to bow her head down and hide her feelings. It hurt seeing him so oblivious to what was going on in her mind, heart and body. Something in her chest was constantly digging into the empty space inside. It was a pain she had never felt; not even when Liam was still alive. Liam's story had been different. The two had played at his game, but she had constantly felt like she was in control.

She shook her head trying to shake away all of her thoughts. Her hand brushed through her hair, as she silently opened the front door, and made her way upstairs. She wanted to surprise him. She wondered what they could do to celebrate. She thought of the new underwear she had recently bought but hadn't yet worn. At that thought, her lips pursed together forming a grin.

"Peter," she whispered as she opened the door to their flat and stepped inside.

She was expecting him to be there sitting on the sofa watching some nonsensical program. She hadn't expected herself to be met with a cold silence.

She fiddled with her phone, wondering whether or not to call him. Since the wedding she had been careful not to be too controlling or too overbearing.

"Michelle, I know I'm a controlling cow," she had confessed to her friend before her hens' do.

Peter had only confirmed it later on that same day. He had summed it up pretty well. "Carla wants, Carla gets," he had shouted. That sentence still echoed in her mind, and his voice reemerged whenever she was least sure of what to do. That said she was bursting to talk to him and give him her good news.

As her phone rang in her ears, she heard his muffled ringtone coming from between the cushions on the sofa. She walked towards it. It was then that she noticed the same pair of black leather shoes, which she had recently bought him, and which he had been wearing earlier today, discarded in front of the sofa.

She was starting to get worried, and she looked around her quickly for any signs of Peter, or for anything that could hint as to what had happened. Her senses were on high alert. It was then that she heard it; a little moan coming from their bedroom. It was followed by the sound of an object crashing onto the ground.

Carla jumped at the noise, but as much as she wanted to run towards the sound, her legs felt as though they were rooted to where she was. Her heart was beating furiously. Her stomach was churning in fear.

She lifted her hand towards her face. Her fingers flew to the sides of her nose, holding the bridge of her nose, as she tried to calm herself. Grabbing the nearest item within reach, she then finally slowly walked towards their bedroom. She gave the door a little push, and it opened immediately.

Her eyes opened as widely as they could, as they attempted to register the view in front of her. She could feel bile rising to her mouth.

"No, no, no," she whispered her voice breaking, as she took a step back, bumping into the wall behind her. The words came out of her mouth without any connection with her brain. Her eyes were still looking right in front of her as her shoulders hunched forward and her chest started heaving noticeably.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: Thanks a lot for your wonderful reviews. I can assure you that they are all deeply appreciated, and they always manage to bring a smile on my face.**_

* * *

4.

Carla backed further into the wall behind her, wishing it could swallow her up. Wishing it could suck her in it and take her anywhere away from that room. The scene enfolding in front of her burnt her eyes. Each moan felt like a blow to her stomach. She felt a punch for each little thing that was being threaded on carelessly. There were creases in the linen that surrounded the oblivious 'couple'. The linen she had bought less than three months ago, a few days before the wedding. The sheets she had washed the day before, with love and with a smile on her face, as she had thought of the previous night.

The dough roll she had previously grabbed slipped from her fingers onto the floor with a loud clatter.

Peter suddenly tensed. His lips parted from the sweet tasting neck of the person beneath him who was now covered in a layer of sweat. His head swung round. His heart suddenly started racing at a different pace than before. His eyes widened.

It was only then that Carla glimpsed the face of the person lying on her bed. The same bed which she had so often sought solace in. The same bed where she had sought comfort in Peter as she cried herself to sleep; after the trial, after her arrest, when memories of the monsters who had racked her life came back to haunt her, after Hayley's passing. It was the same comforting surface that had seen the most loving scenes. It had seen her at her happiest and at her weakest, through her nightmares and her most wonderful and fantastical dreams.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Her hand held her mouth trying to resist the need to hurl. Her legs were trembling, weakening beneath her body's weight. Shock and humiliation were gnawing away at her muscles weakening them.

Peter's eyes darted quickly around him, searching for his pants. As his eyes stopped on the cotton material that lay in a heap next to the bed, he jumped up from his position, as Tina quickly grabbed her green woolen sweater putting it on as quickly as she could covering her flushed, naked, sweaty body.

Carla's body tensed as she sensed Peter moving towards her. Her eyes flicked open…

"Carla," he whispered pleadingly.

Her body was trembling. She wanted to stop him from moving closer to her, but her throat had closed up on her. Each and every part of her body had retreated back into its shell. It was then that suddenly her legs gained a hint of strength. She took a step sideways, moving as far away from the room as possible, before gaining enough fight in her to run towards the front door. As her hands reached for the lock, she stopped, and took one quick look around her. Her shocked, pleading eyes then found Peter's little brown orbs. The familiarity of his eyes threatened to crack through the shook that had enfolded her, but before they had the power to cause the most painful stabbing pain, Carla looked down, before fleeing as fast as she could away from that building.

She stormed down the stairs, and barely seeing where she was going she ran towards the factory. Her whole body was still in shock. She was lost in her own cloud; her mind protecting her from the pain that was soon to come out in full blast.

Nearing the factory doors, her trembling hands fished in her bag for her keys. The time it took her to find them felt like eternity, but finally they were safe in her hands, and she brought them up to fit in the door's lock. As she fumbled with them, her trembling got the worst of her, and they dropped onto the floor. She silently cursed herself. In a quick swoop she bent over to pick them up before finally letting herself inside.

As she stepped inside, the memory of what had just elapsed right in front of her eyes came back to mind. She suddenly couldn't contain herself or her tears any longer. She leaned against the factory door as her tears cascaded down her cheeks, holding her stomach as she sobbed.

Meanwhile, back in the flat Peter was pacing around as Tina watched on. None of them had uttered a word.

"Okay, I should go," Tina suddenly told him, as she started to put on her jacket.

"Yeah," he said coldly.

Tina nodded, before lifting her head to look him in the eyes.

"Why did I do it?" he asked. It was directed more to himself rather than to anyone else.

"Peter…" she started.

He shook his head, as he headed for the couch whilst his fingers fumbled with the lighter trying to light up a cigarette. He drew it to his mouth, yearning for a glass containing substances stronger than Nicotine.

"Go home ay," he said, as his eyes fell on a photo of him and Carla.

Carla had since moved to the office. Every object that Peter owned that cluttered his work place was bringing a stab of pain in her abdomen, bringing to mind countless of thoughts, memories and questions. She bit at the flesh around her thumb as her mind raced beyond control, flitting from one image to another.

"_And I promise to love you above all other people,"_ he had said. She scoffed as she remembered her wedding day, and all the broken promises he had ever uttered.

"_I don't think I'd survive it if went wrong again,"_ she had told Michelle. She always knew this would happen; "the '_Black Widow' _of Coronation Street, the _'home wrecker'_, everything I touch turns to dust, so why shouldn't this?" she thought.

"_Well there's no reason why it should,"_ Michelle had uttered. She laughed bitterly as she remembered that conversation. Things had gone wrong ever so quickly.

She never would have suspected that Peter would betray her like that. She knew he had form but she couldn't understand why. Deep down she had always known that tragedy would strike though. _"I'll end up driving him away, I know I will,"_ she had told Michelle. She had feared it would happen.

She was after all Carla Connor, and she didn't do happy endings. Ever since she was a little girl, looked upon with distaste by everyone in her class, she had always felt as though someone up there had a personal vendetta over her, or held a personal grudge against her. The taunting, the sneering and the name calling at school had always made her feel like there was no God, let alone impotent guardian angels that had nothing to do but sit by your side the whole day long. If there ever was, she was certain her name wasn't on their list, or if it was, they had just rolled over it as people always did. Her lack of beliefs had served as yet another reason why Helen had always begrudged her.

"What would they make of this?" she thought, as her lips started quivering once again. She leaned down grabbing the black box file she had beneath her desk; the perfect hiding place for her precious golden substance. She couldn't bother pouring the liquid into a glass. Her lips kissed the neck of the bottle, as she downed as much as she could in one long shot. She could barely taste it. She felt numb, and yet, she was in so much pain. Her numbness killed the alcohol's burning sensation, as she took one gulp after the other.

As she stared ahead, willing for the alcohol's effect to take over and help her forget, her body involuntary jumped. She mentally kicked herself for not locking the doors behind her.

She knew who it was before she saw him. She could recognise that aromatic woody fragrance from miles away. That smell on its own was usually enough to set her heart off, but right at that very moment it had set off a totally different feeling. Her heart felt as though it had dropped to her stomach. It had brought on a sense of nausea. Their faces, their voices, their actions, their carelessness, the way they had seemed so content, the shock in Peter's eyes when he had been caught. All these images kept flashing in front of her mind. As he came into view, her vision was shuttered into a thousand pieces.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, taking in the state she was in and the open bottle in front of her.

She stared at him, rising one eyebrow, her teeth biting into the flesh in her mouth near her lips as she tried to silence a sob and a new wave of tears that were fighting to escape.

"For what Peter?" she finally said.

He looked at her in wonder trying to understand what she meant.

She smirked as she noted his confusion. "For catching you?" She paused as she shook her head slowly. "Oh I bet you didn't expect that, didn't you ay?"

"I promise you it's not what you think it is," he said.

She glared at him. "Oh you can promise me that can't you? Like all the other promises you've ever promised."

"I can explain."

"What Peter?" she screamed. "What is there to explain? You've been caught with your trousers down your ankles throwing away everything we've ever sacrificed like worthless rubbish."

"No Carla," he whispered.

She gave out a short bitter laugh. "Oh wait wait, my mistake. It wasn't really down your ankles was it? Oh no that would have restricted your," she said pausing unable to carry on, as fresh tears blocked her sight.

"I don't deserve you," he uttered.

"Too right you don't," she said angrily. Her heart pleaded to her, as it beat relentlessly yearning nothing more than for everything to go back to the way it was. "I've invested so much in this relationship. I loved you Peter." she looked at him, her red broken eyes narrowing slightly as they stared into his sorrowfully. "And you gave all that up for that tart."

He walked towards her, stopping in front of her, as she shook her head at him.

"I love you Carla. It's you I love."

A laugh escaped her pursed lips. Another soon followed. "Oh you're so sweet Peter." Her laughter was verging on hysterics, but quickly faded into heart wrenching sobs.

Peter reached for her hands, but she quickly pulled them away. "Don't you dare touch me," she cried angrily.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

She shook her head, with her hand covering her mouth. "Sorry," she scoffed. She was mortified that she had let him see her break down. She stood up, trying to gain back some control.

He remained quiet, unsure of what to say.

"How long?" she asked, dreading the answer.

"I never meant to hurt you," he said trying to avoid the question.

She narrowed her eyes, trying to focus.

"How long? Was it a one off?" she asked angrily. "Was it Peter?"

He looked at her pleadingly. "Yeah," he then finally muttered.

Her forehead wrinkled as she gave him a quizzical look. "What, so she just dropped by, gagging for a quick little shag and you just… gave it to her?"

He took a step closer to her, as he attempted to reach for her hands.

"No, no you don't touch me," she said angrily. "Tell me Peter. Help me understand."

"It was nothing," he replied. "It meant nothing."

"So why did you do it?" she asked furiously. "You know, you still haven't answered my question. So, I'll ask you again for the last time shall I? How did it happen?"

"I never meant to hurt you."

"Ay? You never meant for me to find out you mean," she retaliated. "Peter, was it really a one off?"

"Yeah, I told you."

She eyed him quizzingly. "You see something doesn't look right in my head," she paused, "just tell me the truth Peter. How long has it been going on?"

"A few months," he finally said.

She blinked back her tears. "A few months?" She couldn't get her head round it. "How could I have been so stupid?" she thought, humiliation seeping over her. "So all the time we were playing happy families, you were lying to me shagging her behind my back."

"I'm sorry. I never wanted you to find out like that."

"Too late now ay? So when you say a few months," she started, "what exactly is that? Our wedding… did those vows mean anything to you? Or was it all just another lie to hide your sordid affair?"

"It wasn't like that. It's you I love. I never stopped loving you."

"Funny that because I hate you. So you see you got your wish in the end. You can rot in hell for all I care. So you can go to her, and do whatever you want to her, because I don't care anymore."

"Carla, please," he begged.

"What?" she shouted.

"I never wanted this."

"Of course you didn't ay. You never do, do you? But somehow, it always happens. You know, I actually feel sorry for her, because what she hasn't yet realized is that she'll soon be replaced by another. That's just you init?"

"It was a stupid mistake. I tried to fight it. I told her it was you. Carla, it's always been you."

"Yeah yeah, so what happened then ay? Ay, did you she stay here because of you? Did you beg her to stay?"

"You know how Simon dots on her."

She was furious now. "Don't you dare use him as your excuse."

"I'm not," he muttered.

"So you did," she paused before continuing. There were so many questions cluttering her head; swimming and swinging in the pool of humiliation, sorrow and shock. Her head felt like a pendulum. "No wonder you couldn't be bothered about the wedding, ay? The temptations to drink… Flying off the handle with Rob. Just get out! Get out," she screamed, pushing him roughly.

"Come on Carla," he tried to edge a word in. He needed to make her see sense. He needed her to understand. As much as he had desired Tina, she was just another addictive vice.

She paused to look at him. "I want you," she prodded his chest repeatedly, "out of my life for good."

"No," he whispered as she looked at him in wonder, scoffing in disbelief. She pinned him down with her stare as she shook her head, before he finally relented and stormed out of the factory slamming the front door behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

5.

The sudden chatter startled Carla as she jumped in her chair. Her head yanked up, her hair falling in front of her face which was blotched with streams of black make up. She ran a hand through her hair, dishevelling it further, as she tried to make sense of her current position. She looked around disorientated. The broken bottle by the side of her chair described it all for her. As she tried to stand up, her head started spinning all over again, but with one hand holding the bridge of her nose in a futile attempt to stop her headache, she swung towards the factory office's door trying to lock it shut and to pull the blinds down. She couldn't risk the factory lot seeing her in such a state.

She leaned against the wall as she tried to remember what had happened after Peter's departure. The night was a blur but she was well aware that every other second of that night had been a mere repetition of the previous second. She had placed all her thoughts and energies on the now broken bottle with the constant thought of wanting to drink herself into sweet oblivion.

A knock from behind her made her jump as her heart started thumping faster than before. Her eyes squeezed shut involuntary as her lips let out a short gasp.

"Mrs Barlow?" Sean called out. Her heart twanged at the mention of that name. Her hands made their way to her face covering her eyes, as Sean continued mumbling.

"Do you need something Sean?" she asked from behind the closed door, her voice cracking slightly.

"Nothing in particular," he muttered back.

"Alrighty then," she said, putting on her strongest sweetest voice, all the while wondering where she had hidden the probably last remaining bottle of whiskey which she had stored in the office hoping that Peter wouldn't find it.

As she ransacked her box files, along with the drawers in her desk—the two places where she usually hid her stash in, Peter too was going through a similar search. He rummaged through each cupboard in the Bookies's flat searching for a similar bottle. He had barely slept that night, wondering how Carla was feeling whilst going through the wrong decisions he had recently made. His fingers made a clinking sound as they brushed against the glass of a bottle of red wine. It was Carla's favourite. She had been sustaining from alcohol since he had lied to her about his recent temptations. Even though it was true that his temptations had made a slight appearance, he had worried her and filled her with guilt for nothing. The times he had confessed his desperate need to attend an alchy meeting to get support and help, were just a cover up for his other vice.

As he struggled with his thoughts and temptations, an impatient Simon waited outside, ringing the doorbell incessantly. The noise jolted Peter's mind back to this world, and the bottle soon found itself being hidden back where it was before.

As soon as Peter hit the buzzer, Simon raced up the stairs followed by Leanne to a surprised Peter.

"Alright pal?" Peter greeted Simon.

Leanne jumped in. "Beth said she hadn't seen you at the factory, so I thought I'd drop by, see if you're around."

"Did something happen?" he asked as he looked from her to Simon who had already positioned himself on the sofa occupying his thoughts with his DS.

"I thought you could have him if you're going to stay here...," she started.

"Eh, why isn't he in school?" Peter interrupted.

"Teacher's meeting," she uttered. "Peter are you okay?"

"Oh yeah." He put on his best smile. "Yeah yeah, why shouldn't I?" he asked.

Leanne shrugged. "Okay then. I'll pick him up for his tea," she said before she left.

Peter was thankful he hadn't as much as taken a sip. "What was I thinking?" he thought, before flashes of the previous night came to mind.

"Hey dad, where's Carla?" Simon suddenly piped up.

"Ay?" Peter uttered. "She's at work."

"So why aren't you there?" Simon queried.

"I was feeling sick," Peter muttered after a long pause.

Back in the factory Carla had finally retrieved the hidden bottle. To her utter dismay it had already been opened on another stressful morning and half of it had already been imbibed. As she sat at her desk surrounded with mountains of carelessly thrown paper, with two half bottles staring back at her, she tried to immerse herself into the figures and work in front of her along with the help of her two friends, as she tried to forget the empty space behind them.

By lunchtime she was bursting to visit the bathroom, but she couldn't let the factory lot see her in yesterday's outfit, let alone in such a dishevelled state. She paced around the office as she waited for them to scoot out for their break. Their calmness was getting on her last nerves. She swiftly cleaned her face before leaning towards the glass. She held on to the cabinet beneath it to help her from toppling over, and inserted two of her fingers between one blind and another which gave her just enough space to knock on the glass to alert the machinists.

"Lunch time you lot," she shouted, trying to brave a smile.

As the front door closed behind them, she scurried towards the bathroom. As she leaned towards the bathroom mirror, she could barely recognise the face that looked back at her. Her eyes were red, broken, and puffy, surrounded with smudges of black make up. The person staring back at her was not the same Carla people knew. She looked down as she opened the water tap to clean her face. Water drizzled down the sink, as her eyes started welling up with fresh tears. The pain that had oozed in with all its majestic power, replacing the happiness and comfort that she had thought she had finally achieved, was still there piercing her with its rod of steel. The realisation that she had let yet another man use her, and break down the barriers she had learnt to create when she was still a mere teenager, left her feeling nauseated. Regardless of how much her life had changed in the last few years, she could still feel the same pang of loneliness she had often felt before, and yet, she was adherent that she could and would get through this on her own. She didn't want anyone's words or looks of pity. She didn't want to be anyone's missionary case.

As she looked into the mirror, she felt a rush as her head transposed itself to three and a half years ago, to one of the first proper conversations she had had with Peter; one of the nights that had been the start of what till the night before she had considered as the most meaningful element of her life.

"_Ha what would they make of this ay? Carl-the-wreck," she told Peter with a laugh, as she looked him in the eye. She __leaned her head to the back of the sofa, averting her gaze to the space in front of her, looking at nothing in particular__ as she continued, her voice creaking with __sadness__. "They don't want her. They want a tough cookie; loud mouth with the dirty giggle."_

"_You will get through this, and I'm going to help you. Okay?__" He sounded so convincing. "__And I promise you, I will be there every step of the way."_

Those words rang in her ears, over and over again. She couldn't bring herself to tell anyone about what had recently happened. As corny as it might be to the others around her, she had no idea how she was going to get through her life without Peter by her side. He had been her rock for so long. Without him she felt exposed to numerous amounts of threats. She felt vulnerable again. Subconsciously her hands had crossed themselves against her chest, grabbing her arms tightly, her fingers piercing into her own skin.

"_I promise you, I will be there every step of the of the way"_

"_Every step of the way"_

"_I promise you"_

The memory repeated itself over and over again. It kept playing in her mind, as she stood in front of the mirror no longer aware of her surroundings with tears falling down her cheeks. As it repeated itself, his face slowly started changing. His lips were curling upwards, until all she could hear was his laughter echoing in her ears. She felt small and insignificant; a feeling she had often felt when she was back in high school. Her head was suddenly bursting with memories.

"_Carla the smella," they were yelling whilst jeering at her. A group of students had formed a circle round her. None of the teachers that were meant to be keeping guard in the school playground bothered to stop them. Everyone around her laughed at her humiliation as she bit on her lip forcing herself to not let her emotions show_.

Incessant, unrelenting laughter surrounded her.

"_Do you really think he wants you?" Paul's mother laughed at her. Paul had taken her home to meet his parents. He had promised they'd grow to love her, but instead as soon as they were left on their own, his mother had cornered her and derided her. She looked her up and down as she spoke to her in attempt to belittle her._

The laughter was growing stronger.

"_He'll soon tire of you," Michelle told her as they waited for Paul and Liam. She scoffed at Carla's attempts to impress her brother with her cheap tacky perfume. She failed to see what Paul saw in her._

The snickering continued.

"_Where's your mummy?" One of her classmates asked her innocently, as they waited in line before going on stage for their annual Christmas concert._

"_Lying in a gutter?" The boys behind her asked. Her cheeks flushed red as everyone around her snickered at their comment. She shuffled her feet awkwardly before pinning them down with her stare as she tried to shrug off their comments. She then looked around fervently hoping to spot her own mother. She had promised her she'd come, but there was still no sign of her_. _They sneered from behind. "Dream on sweetheart," one of them whispered._

Her mind flitted from one memory to another with no apparent pattern.

"_You know it's funny," Leanne said rolling her eyes, with a scornful look on her face. "You're in such a state apparently, yet somehow you manage to drag yourself round here trying to save your own skin."_

"_It's not like that," Carla insisted her voice breaking._

"_You just love it, don't you?" Leanne laughed. "Playing the victim. You don't want the truth to come out, because then everyone will see you for what you really are. A self-centred, pathetic, dangerous drunk." Carla hadn't thought it was possible to feel worse than she had already been feeling. Yet, each word was another blow to her stomach. Her head was reeling. Her heart was thumping in her chest. She was repulsed with herself. "And you know what people will say," Leanne continued, as she further derided her. "Well, if she lied about being behind the wheel of a car that almost killed somebody, what else would she lied about? Being raped?" Hate radiated from Leanne's eyes piercing into her own eyes. She felt the slight ounce of strength that she had left oozing quickly out of her body, leaving an empty frame with no fight in it. _

The laughter was subsiding. Instead, it was being replaced by her own voice in her head; a voice that was pleading for the memories to stop. A sole sob escaped her lips. She forced herself to calm down. Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the voices on the factory floor which made her dash to one of the toilet booths.

She scrunched her face. "Surely it hasn't already been an hour," she thought to herself.

She listened out for their voices, trying to get an idea of whether it was safe to come out. As the hum of the machines killed the noise of the machinists' chatter, she slid out and quickly locked the bathroom's door. She attempted to clean her face determined to not let the sight of her break her down again. As the last drop of makeup was removed, she took a step back examining her outfit thinking of a way to modify it. She quickly removed her sheer yellow blouse, thankful of the sleeveless black shirt she had worn beneath it. As plain as it was, with the help of her silver necklace, it gave her outfit a different look. She hoped that this alteration would be sufficient enough to stir away any unwanted attention and gossip.

Taking in a deep breath she unlocked the door, before she quickly hurried past the machinists, back to the comfort of her office. As she breathed out a sigh of relief, a knock interrupted her.

Julie walked in. "I'm going on the cake run, I wondered what you..." she started.

Carla looked up, her forehead wrinkling up. "Cake run?" she asked. "You've only just come back from your lunch." She looked down at the paper in front of her, pretending to go back to her work.

"We were also wondering whether you'd like to join us tonight. We're going for a few drinks..."

"Ta," Carla said quickly, hoping she'll leave her in peace.

"So does that mean you'll join us?" Julie nagged on.

"Maybe another time, yeah?" Carla replied.

"Yeah," Julie uttered. Her eyes then fell on the broken glass that was still discarded dangerously by Carla's side. "Do you want me to clear that up for you?"

Carla clicked her pen repeatedly. "Why don't you go back to what you're paid to do," Carla uttered in one quick breath.

The mention of the next night had left her thinking. She still had no idea where she was going to spend the night. With all the time she spent there, along with all the memories the place contained, the factory was the closest thing to home. It was also the only place she had, and she wasn't particularly looking forward to stepping outside its comforting walls. The possibility of bumping into either Peter, or even Michelle or Rob was not particularly appeasing. However, the bottles in front of her were a clear sign she'd soon have to.

It was only later that night long after everyone had left that Carla even attempted to move from her chair. Her tummy gave a slight grumble, reminding her she hadn't as much as touched a crumb of food since the day before. Having consumed the last drop in both bottles, she stumbled towards Dev's in what she thought was her perfected drunken walk. It was only whilst paying that she suddenly decided to drive off to the nearest hotel and spend the night there. However this decision was quickly reneged, for as she hurried towards her car she spotted Rob which left her darting towards the factory doors for another night inside those four walls.


	6. Chapter 6

6.

Having just come out of the shower Carla was starting to feel human again. She had forgotten the last time she had gone for that long without showering. She settled in front of the mirror with her makeup case in front of her. The bed that was positioned behind her was calling her to it, tempting her to take another nap. She knew she would never wake up if she was to lay back down on it. She still had no idea how she had drifted off when she had first arrived. She had initially only sat down to rest her knackered feet after having scurried away from the factory in the early morning, at a time when the streets where still empty void for the milkman who was making his morning round. Even though nor her head nor the rest of her body were thankful for the early rise, she was thankful that to her surprise she hadn't fallen in deep slumber; especially after having spent the first part of the night downing her sorrows which had quickly led to her head slumping onto her desk. That interruption of sleep meant that she had had enough time to slip out of the factory without being seen.

As she stifled another yawn she reminded herself of the meeting she had with Sandra from Saunders in three hours time, in which time she still needed to buy an outfit. She still hadn't mastered enough courage to come face to face with Peter. If she did, she was sure she wouldn't be ready of him in time for the meeting, or in a good state of mind for it. She wished she could just call and cancel, but knowing that Sandra had travelled all the way from Sunderland just for the meeting made it impossible.

She arrived at the restaurant they had agreed on with a couple of minutes to spare. She ordered her fourth strong black coffee of the day as she went through the contract papers she had in front of her. She was grateful that she had worked on this the week before, and had not left it for the last minute, otherwise she knew she'd be winging half of the stuff that was about to be uttered in the next hour or so. Once she had gone through them, being left with nothing better to do, she switched on her phone, hoping not to be bombarded with messages she had been trying to avoid. When Sandra appeared, her phone was still flashing as one message after another flooded her phone, each one of them showing the same recipient.

As Sandra and Carla were tying the deals for Underworld's next order, Peter walked into the Rovers Return towards an idle Michelle. "Michelle, can I have a word?" he asked.

"Sure," she said as she placed down the table cloth she had been playing with, and walked towards him.

He eyed her curiously. He wasn't expecting her to be so courteous after what he'd done to Carla. "How is she doing?" he asked with a worried look on his face.

"She who?" she quizzed.

He drew his brows together. "Carla ay," he uttered.

"Oh I haven't seen her these last few days," she told him. "Why? Has something happened?"

His gaze had fallen onto the coaster which his fingers had been twiddling with.

"What's happened Peter?" she continued asking, as she became growingly concerned for her friend. "What have you done?"

He shook his head. "Just tell her how sorry I am yeah," he said before walking away, leaving her fretting over Carla.

A few minutes later, Carla headed towards her car. Her phone vibrated against her hand as she fished for her keys inside her bag. The amount of messages Peter had sent her was almost laughable. He had ceased to care about her whilst he was bedding Tina, but now that she had caught him out he wouldn't leave her in peace. She peered at her phone just in case it was someone from work. She was intrigued as she saw that for the last fifteen minutes or so, it had been Michelle who had been bombarding her with calls. As she drove to the factory, her heart pounded faster in her chest as she wondered whether word about Peter's affair had gone out. She was tempted not to go, but she knew that if she went back to the hotel room she'd only spend the day mulling over recent events. She needed the distraction, besides there was a pile of work that needed to be done.

As she turned into Rosamund Street she felt a new wave of anxiety rack her body, as all self confidence threatened to abandon her. She closed her eyes for a swift second, as she attempted to regain control of herself, and nearly ran over a stray dog. It quickly darted out of her way onto the safe pavement, where it started barking furiously at her car making Carla feel as though it was alerting everyone of her appearance.

"Oh shut up," she muttered in annoyance. It was doing her head in.

She breathed out in relief as soon as she closed the factory door behind her. The doors muffled the dog's relentless barking. Each bark had felt as though someone was knocking hard on her head sending a new wave of throbbing misery.

"Chop chop," she shouted as she walked towards her office, upon noticing that half of them were dawdling and gossiping over Sean's machine. "Er, Beth, Sean, Eva, Julie, back to work," she shouted, after her previous order had been ignored.

"Yes Mrs Barlow," Sean quickly replied, as the girls returned to their machines.

No sooner had Carla sat down in front of her desk, after finally throwing away the broken glass, she heard a slight knock, and the sound of heels approaching her from behind.

"Carla, we need to talk," a familiar voice uttered.

Carla remained as she was, focusing on the papers in front of her, pretending to be immersed in her work. "I'm busy Chelle," she finally replied, as she scribbled something down.

"Oh come on Car," Michelle retorted, "just take a short break, heaven knows you probably deserve it, with all the slaving out you do." She walked towards Carla, as she looked around her. She could sense something was up. "So how are you love?"

"Tickety boo," Carla replied quickly, before looking round to face Michelle.

Michelle nodded. "So is Peter not here?" she asked.

Carla looked away quickly, as she pretended to sort through the papers in front of her. "He's at a meeting," she lied.

Michelle looked at her closely. She could see the bags under her eyes. "Oh, so is that why he was at the Rovers asking for you then?"

Carla froze.

"Come on Carla, I've known you for the good part of twenty years. I can tell when something's up," she paused slightly, "or when you're lying. Don't close me out again. You know you can talk to me."

Carla nodded as she looked at her.

"So?" Michelle inquired.

"Oh it's nothing," Carla said as she leaned against the back of her chair, biting the corner of her bottom lip.

Michelle gave her a quizzing look.

"We just had a row," Carla uttered. "A big row actually," she continued with a scoff. "But I'll be fine. It takes more than Peter flaming Barlow to get me down." She didn't believe a word that she was saying, but she hoped that Michelle would just take the hint and let her be.

"And you're okay?" Michelle quizzed.

"Yeah," Carla quickly replied. "Tough as old boots me, ay."

"Look Car, I don't want to pressure you to talk, but I am here, okay?"

Carla nodded and gave her a hint of a small smile.

"I'll leave you to your work then," Michelle uttered as she moved towards the factory floor.

Carla barely registered her last comment. She stared ahead, her head leaning to one side. "He cheated on me Chelle," she muttered, tears welling in her eyes. "What is it about me, ay? Why is it that whenever I think I've found my rock it all comes crumbling down for me?" she said slowly, pausing between each meaningful word.

Michelle turned round to look at her. Carla had left her shocked. She knew how much Peter meant to her, so she could only imagine the pain she was experiencing.

"Come on love," she started saying.

"It's karma init?" Carla said. "I stole him from Leanne, so it's only fair for it to happen to me as well. But I honestly thought it would last far longer than this. I know I drive people off the cliff at times. I'm a controlling cow. I understand that people wouldn't want to stick around. I wouldn't want to be with me, if I had a choice, so who can actually blame him, ay?" she then laughed.

"You aren't as bad. I'm here after all, aren't I?" Michelle joked.

Carla continued, barely hearing what Michelle had said. "I shouldn't be too surprised though should I? I mean I should have learnt this pattern. The ones I really and truly fall for only want me as their piece on the side. I'm never enough for them am I? Paul, Liam, Peter. And then the ones that only want me, ha," she laughed bitterly, "they just want to control me. Why couldn't I have fallen for Tony or for Frank? Life would have been so much easier. I would have been somewhat happier. Liam would still be here. Frank wouldn't have done what he did."

"You can't think like that," Michelle interrupted her. "And Carla… Paul, Liam, and I'm sure that even Peter, they loved you."

Carla looked at her, as a tear escaped and fell down her cheek. "Loved," she stated, repeating what Michelle herself had just said.

"I didn't mean it like that Car."

Carla shook her head. "I only wanted what everyone else wants. I just wanted someone to love me; someone to share my whole life with; someone who made me feel wanted, and made me feel safe. It's not too much to ask for, is it?"

"No love."

"You know even back at school when teachers used to make us write down about our dreams, that was the one thing that always came to mind. I'd sometimes scratch it off though, and write down some materialistic item just so as not to be laughed at. It's ironic though int'it? Because that's right what I got. And yet, I'd give it all up, all my designer gear, all my money, as long as it meant I'd get that kind of unconditional love. I would. I really would."

Michelle's heart was breaking for her. "You know, I'm sure Peter loves you. You probably don't want to hear this right now, but when Peter came to me earlier, asking how you were, he told me to tell you how sorry he is."

"Sorry," Carla scoffed, "He keeps saying it. It won't take anything away though would it? It won't scrub my mind clean off that image. Or stop these whispers in my head."

"Did you walk in on him?" Michelle asked flabbergasted.

Carla looked at her, but she was currently far away from her. "Yep. Him and that cheap scabby tart that works behind your bar."

"What, Tina?" Michelle was shocked. The thought of the two of them together was deeply appalling.

"The one and only."

They stood in silence for a few short minutes.

Michelle finally cut through the silence. "Have you talked to him since then?"

Carla shook her head. "What's the use? I already know what he's going to say," she paused before turning her head to look Michelle in the eyes. "I need to though, don't I? If only to give him a good bashing and to get my stuff."

Michelle pursed her lips and nodded. "Bring them over to mine then yeah? You can stay with us." As much as Carla didn't want to impose herself on others, and wanted her own space, she was thankful for the offer. "Where have you been staying anyway?" Michelle suddenly asked.

"Oh you've become quite a curious George haven't you?!" Carla retorted, wittily avoiding Michelle's question, a little act that didn't go unnoticed. As she spoke, she held in her sudden need to take a full deep breath. She felt as though her lungs were about to explode. As she thought about her impending visit, her lungs suddenly felt a huge heavy weight being pressed upon them which made her air hungry and gasp for her favourite glass of intoxicating volatile flammable liquid that could burn and temporarily obliterate her deepest fears.


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N: A big thanks to everyone who's reviewed. I appreciate each and every review.**_

* * *

7.

**Carla sat in the darkness and stillness of Michelle's living room. She was surrounded by the cold silence that was occasionally interrupted by a humming noise coming from the refrigerator. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and her fingers were closed tightly around a mug of black coffee, which she was holding tightly against her spinning head. Regardless of the amount of alcohol she had chugged down her throat, she still couldn't sleep. Her body was exacting her with its own personal form of vengeance. It was denying her that one sole harmless form of escape. Instead, she was presented with a relentless empty cold feeling in her stomach, especially upon thinking back on that night's conversations.**

As she left the factory, Carla put on her bravest face despite the knot in the pit of her stomach. She paused in the entrance of what she used to call home, biting at the skin around her thumb, before making her way up the stairs. She tried to gauge Peter's mood, and the words that were to be uttered. She prayed to the God she wasn't sure existed that she'd somehow find a way to stay strong, and that Peter wouldn't make it harder than it already was. No sooner had she turned the lock and opened the door, the whiff of whiskey hit her nostrils. Her heart sank deeper in her chest.

"Carla," he greeted her with a hint of relief in his voice, "you came back."

Her eyebrows lifted towards her hair. "How much have you had to drink Peter, if you really think that I'd come back to you after what you did?"

"Come, sit down," he desperately begged her, "have a drink with me and we'll talk about it."

"What else is there to be said?" Carla shrugged him off. "I think I've heard it all already."

"Carla, please," he slurred. "I am truly sorry."

"I wondered when that word was going to come up. It's your personal favourite these days ay?" She looked at him as she waited for a reaction. "Okay, let's have it then," she then said. "What exactly is it that you want to talk about?"

"Let's give this another go. I promise you it was all her. I've been an idiot, granted, but it won't happen again." Carla rolled her eyes. "It's always been you," he persisted.

"And you promise me it won't happen again?" Carla asked.

"No, no," he said slurring his words, as he stood up to take her hands. "Oh I promise you Carla, I will never put as much as an eye on anyone else."

"It will be that easy, won't it?"

"I'd do anything."

She looked at him, rising one eye, letting out a laugh, as he looked at her wonderingly. "Do you really think I'd believe that, after what you've done?" she scoffed.

"She meant nothing to me. She never did."

"Then why did you do it?" she screamed, her anger rising. "Oh you know what, you don't even have to answer that, because let me tell you something Peter, and believe me when I say this, I don't want to hear any of your pathetic sorry little excuses. You can keep them for the next poor person that falls for you."

She then quickly stormed out of the room, giving him no time to wedge another word in, leaving him chucking down his throat one glass after the other.

She was furiously grabbing every object she owned and throwing it carelessly in her open luggage as quickly as she could, when Peter stumbled in with another glass of whiskey in his hand.

"You know when you asked why I did it," he started. She noted the change in his tone of voice. "You can get on your high horse Carla, but I'm not the only one to blame here."

Carla couldn't believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. One of her eyebrows flitted upwards. "Are you really going to blame this on me?" she said as she turned round to face him.

"Oh no," he replied, words coming out of his mouth without his control, "It's all my doing, but you always have to be there don't you? Always one step ahead of me. Always with the reigns in your hand! Heaven forbid things don't go as you want them to, ay?"

"What, so that gives you the right to do whatever the hell you want to, does it?" her voice cracked as she fought to hold back her emotions.

He scoffed. "I couldn't do that, not with you around, could I?"

"Oh but you did. Earth to Peter!" she retorted. "Scruffy girl, works behind a bar, this tall," she signalled with her hands. "Remember her?"

"How can I not? You know what, for some reason I gave up the one good thing in my life for you..."

"Her?" she interrupted, tears welling in her eyes.

"That little fella that you never gave a toss about," he replied, hurling at her each callous word that was coming out of his mouth in the most insensitive manner. "He read you better than I ever did, and Tina, well, she's been brilliant with him."

"I care about him," she said angrily.

"Yeah and pigs might fly."

"I do," she insisted.

"When did you ever care about anyone but yourself ay Carla?"

She knew he was heavily intoxicated, and that she should discard ninety percent of the things he was uttering, but each word was punching her harder in her chest. "Ay? You talk about care? I loved you," she said.

"Love," he scoffed.

"Ay, I've invested so much in this relationship, and you know it."

"Invested? It's a relationship Carla, not a business deal. But that's more important to you init?"

"I gave it my all Peter. Everything that's happened these last two and a half years trace back to this," she said. She knew she should have left ages ago. A single tear fell down her cheek which she quickly brushed away before he could see. "I despise you for what you've done to us."

Peter let out a laugh that pierced right through Carla's heart.

"No, whatever you say, you did this Peter. I am not to blame for what you've done. You pretended everything was fine and lied to me the whole time," she said, her voice breaking. "I trusted you when I was at my weakest, and you just went and betrayed that trust."

"I told you Carla. I told you how I felt. But you never gave a stuff. There's always something else going on; and hell to whoever steps in your way."

"When?" she screamed, flinging her hands up.

"Before your big day," he said, mimicking her as he used the very same words she had so often used before.

"What, the wedding?" she asked, as the veins in her face were sucked away by her sudden realisation. "Has this been going on for that long?"

She was hit with silence, as confusion masked his face. "Can you really blame me?" he finally said, an icy layer glazing his words and voice. He was heedless of the words that were coming out of his mouth. He had long since lost control over the mushy words that were coming out with an explosive effect.

"Oh you've changed your tune haven't you? What happened to all those sorries?"

"I thought you had had enough of them."

She nodded her head. "Yeah, I detest lies Peter. You should know that by now." She had had enough of this. She tried to close the luggage in front of her, and tried to make her way past him.

His eyes flitted from her face to her luggage, taking in the scene in front of him. Every single word that he had said suddenly hit him hard in the face. The fogginess he had previously been engulfed in suddenly lifted off him. Reality came back to hit him in full blast. The sight of her leaving jolted him into place. He had never sobered up so fast.

"Carla." He ran out after her panicking. "I'm sorry love. I have no idea why I said what I said," he uttered in one quick breath.

She laughed bitterly.

"I didn't mean a thing I said. It was lust. Just lust. I was, I am happy with you, and she knows that. She can never compare to you."

"I cannot take this anymore Peter," she said quietly, her words layered with exhaustion. "I've had enough of being used." She walked closer towards the door, and he quickly ran out in front of her blocking her passage.

"No," Peter said, his own voice cracking.

She looked down, as she spoke, "I'll send someone to collect the rest of my stuff for me, or..."

He interrupted her. "No stay here Car, I'll leave."

She shook her head. "I can't."

"I can't let you leave."

"Peter, please," she said, as her heart started thudding faster.

He moved closer to her, his eyes holding hers as she involuntary took a step back. Tears were now falling carelessly down Carla's face. He took another step closer to her. "Let's start afresh."

Her body was suddenly full of fresh new anger. Her brow lifted to her forehead. He had spent the last minutes throwing a cascade of words that had tormented her both emotionally and psychologically, and he now seemed to be expecting her to just forgive him.

"You're joking aren't you? Do you need a reminder of what's been going on? Tell you what, go down to the pub. I'm sure you'll get your answer there, and ay if you're lucky you might even get a quick shag down the alleyway ay. I'm sure that would lighten up your day." Her voice was rising by each word being uttered, until she was practically shouting. "And while you're at it, just leave me alone yeah," she finished.

She moved forward, but he was still blocking her way. "Now get out of my way," she screamed, nearly pushing him over, before running out towards Michelle's place, her head spinning uncontrollably. She struggled to bottle her emotions as she hurried to the safety and comforting confinements of closed doors. Her lips were quivering uncontrollably by the time she settled her luggage down.

The unshed tears that were lapping at the side of her head making her feel like a powerless frail body out at sea then started bubbling as her tears boiled up in rage. "Oi you, we need to talk," Carla yelled, as a shadow darted past her down the corridor.

As a layer of froth covered the tears' surfacing layer, the reason behind them scalded her whole body. Her face had turned into a dangerous shade of red. Rage and fury pulsed through every single nerve in her body as they stomped into the alleyway behind the pub, away from all prying ears.

"What do you want Carla?" Tina asked, as she stood up straight, crossing her hands in front of her chest.

"I think it's time me and you have a little chat," Carla retorted, "don't you?"

Tina stared back at her trying to look unfazed by the current situation.

"You see I have this grimy puzzle which I'm trying to put together, so I'm looking for some answers," Carla continued. "Nothing special, just thought dear sweet Tina could help like she always does ay."

"I'm not going to involve myself in your domestic Carla. It's Peter you need to talk to."

"Oh Tina you're already involved." She stared her down as she tried to understand what drove Peter to her. "So, first question, was it a full blown affair?"

"He did say he loved me, if that's what you're getting at," Tina replied callously.

Carla had to put all she had in order not to lunge herself at Tina. She wished for nothing more but to wipe away that smirk, and tear off some strands of hair.

"You know, I never took you as the gullible kind, but if you seriously believe that..." Carla uttered, shaking her head as she tried to shake off the images that were forming in it.

"Me gullible?" Tina sneered. "You had no idea what was going on for months. You believed every excuse he came up with. Some would say you even encouraged me on."

Tina was lying sprawled on the floor before either one of them became aware of what had transpired. The tingling sensation in Carla's hand and the burning around Tina's cheek soon made it clear to both of them. Hand on her cheek, Tina quickly regained composure and stood back up in front of her. "Is that all you have to say?" she said, as she started to walk away.

Carla quickly grabbed her arm turning her round. "Oh no you don't. You don't walk out on me. I'm not half ready of you."

"What?" Tina snapped as she fought against Carla's tightening grasp.

Carla suddenly let her go.

"Look Carla, I'm sorry, it just got out of hand."

"Sorry?! Sorry?! What am I going to do with all these sorries? Doesn't anyone around here have anything better to say? You know, it doesn't make you any less of a chavvy, scabby tart," Carla said, stressing the last three words.

"Hypocrite," Tina muttered.

"What did you just say?" Carla's face flared in anger.

"You are one to talk," Tina said.

"There's an ocean of difference. We were happy!"

Tina scoffed. "You think."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Carla asked, intrigued.

Tina laughed, infuriating Carla. It took everything she had for her to resist the urge to throw something at Tina's face.

"Oh he was happy alright."

Carla gave her a quizzing look.

"Just ignore me. I mean, I'm sure he was elated the night you collapsed in your wedding dress, too drunk to stand up straight. So insensitively drunk he had to take you to bed during your very own wedding reception. Oh he was happy alright. So happy he'd married the love of his life that as soon as we were left alone, he was back by my side his lips locked in mine."

Bile rose to Carla's mouth. Her hands were shaking, all her emotions racing to the end of her nerve cells. Before she knew it, she was flying at Tina, her hair in her hands, as she shook her and punched wherever her hands could get to whilst still holding strands of her hair. Meanwhile, her heart was pounding heavily as a mysterious force threatened to squash it into smithereens. She screamed profanities and vile words at Tina, who in turns was pushing at Carla's face, her fingernails starting to pierce into her skin.

An outside force suddenly pulled them apart.

The drumming in Carla's ears was too loud for her to hear Rob's voice. "Carla, what's going on?" he shouted, as she fought against the sturdy hands that were holding her away from Tina.

Meanwhile, Michelle was holding Tina away. She had overheard the last few words that had passed between them. Tina's words had sliced through her heart, so she could only imagine the damage they'd done to Carla's. She fought the urge to follow in Carla's footsteps, and assault her with words that were feeling crowded in her mouth as they waited to explode. Her self control forced her to swallow them down. "She's not worth it," she then told Carla, as she ushered Tina away.

As Tina finally relented and made to leave, she heard Michelle shout behind her. "You're sacked," she said.

It was only once Tina was gone that Rob released his grasp. He was still clueless to what had transpired, but he held Carla gently as her chest heaved uncontrollably, and her legs buckled beneath her. He hugged her closer to him wishing he could find a way to take her pain away. It had been long since he had last seen her break down like she presently had. The Carla that lay in his hands struggling to breathe, as she let out one miserable sob after another, was nowhere like the Carla he knew she had struggled to become.

It took a while for her sobs to calm down, and even after that, as the three of them sat round Michelle's dining table with a bottle of wine in front of them, she stared down for most of the time, barely uttering any words. She sat slugged on her chair, her legs up in front of her with one hand hugging them to her chest, as the other played with her wine glass. Occasionally her hand would make her way to her face to wipe off any escaped tears.

"It's Peter isn't it?" Rob finally said.

Carla's eyebrows flitted up unconsciously, as she took another sip. Her reaction to his question was enough of a confirmation to Rob. He pushed his chair back, and headed to the door.

Carla's voice stopped him in his tracks. "Rob, where are you going?"

"If you think I'm going to sit there..." Rob started.

"So what are you going to do? Go round to his, act all tough I am, end up back inside? I don't think so."

"I had warned him. Don't worry sis, he won't get more than what he deserves. I'll just give him a quick little reminder of what I'd told him on your wedding night. You know I don't back out from promises," he said.

At the mention of her wedding, Michelle quickly looked up at Carla. She could see her eyes were welling up afresh.

"Fine," Carla quickly replied, "you've never listened to a word I said, and you sure won't now. He might be too drunk to remember you or even me, but since you're going there give him this and all," she continued, as she fiddled with her finger removing her silver wedding band. "I sure don't need it anymore."

Michelle got up after Rob, leaving Carla downing down another recently poured glass.

"He's not worth getting in the nick for Rob. She needs you here, not duffing him up."

"He's been messing around with her head for far too long," Rob said, his nostrils flaring.

"Don't do anything daft," Michelle called after him, before Rob slammed the back door of the pub behind him and hurried towards the flat.

* * *

_**A/N: P.S. I'm trying to resist the urge of inserting myself in this fic and give both Peter and Tina a good bashing myself.**_


	8. Chapter 8

8.

The sun had barely come up yet, but Michelle knew she couldn't delay getting out of bed any longer. She had already hit the snooze button of her alarm for all of five times. It had always astounded her how Steve always managed to sleep through the blaring noise of the alarm clock. His snores infuriated her at times, especially at times like that. Finally getting out of bed, she made her way towards the kitchen for her daily morning cup of strong coffee before attempting to wake Amy up for school. The dark silhouette slumped onto the kitchen table almost made her jump. The empty bottles littering the kitchen were enough of a reminder as to who the shadow before her belonged to. She tiptoed quietly around the house hoping not to disturb Carla. It was only when Amy was up and dressed for school that Michelle tried to gently wake her up.

"Hey love," she told her gently in a hushed voice, "why don't you go up to Amy's room. I'm sure the bed's more comfortable than this table."

Carla looked at her through half opened eyes trying to remember where she was.

"I'm sure your neck and back will thank you," Michelle continued, as she ushered an exhausted Carla upstairs. It hadn't been long since she had dropped asleep on the table, and the lack of sleep, along with the effect of the previous night's alcohol consumption, was catching up on her. At the back of her mind she felt as though there was someplace else she had to be, but right at that moment she was too dead beat to try and think of what and where it was. She was all too happy to let it all be and escape the life and pain she dreaded to wake up to.

An hour later, with Carla still asleep and Steve and Liz out of the way, Michelle sat with Rob in the same place Carla had previously fallen asleep in, with another coffee in her hand.

"Don't worry," he started, "He's still alive as far as I know. Not that it'd surprise me if he wasn't. He was so sloshed by the time I got there."

"You're telling me you never laid a finger on him?" Michelle asked, her brow furrowing.

"Well I might have given him a slight thumping. I didn't draw up any blood though. Mind you, I doubt he'll remember who it even was", he said. "He's pathetic. You know, I could never understand what she saw in him. She's well shot of him."

Michelle rolled her eyes. "She doesn't see it like that though, does she?"

"Oh but she should. He's not even worth her tears. I hadn't seen her break down like that in ages, and even then, even when she was still a kid, she wouldn't let anyone see her like that."

"That's our Carla ay? She pretends she's tough. She lets you believe she's fine but she's no different than any of us. She just hides it well."

"She had to learn to do that didn't she?" he said, as his mind drifted back to another time; a time which he had long since visited.

_Half an hour before lessons started, Carla was still lingering around the pigsty they called __home__ in her worn out tracksuit bottoms that barely came down to her ankles, and a dirty flannel sweater which she used as pyjamas. Whilst lying in bed she had hoped her mum would be too tired, too high, or too hangover to care whether or not her nine year old had went to school._

_Rob was growing impatient. "When are we leaving Carla?" he asked his sister._

_Sharon chose that moment to walk in. She had been slouching around, her eyes barely open, as she dragged herself towards the kitchen, but upon seeing her children her eyelids quickly vanished into the crease around her open eyes, as they flew wide open. "What are you still doing here?" she shouted at Carla. "What do you think you're playing at?"_

"_I'm not feeling well," Carla lied. She let out a well perfected fake cough even though she knew that the previous times she had tried it on in order to try and bunk off school her mother had managed to see through it._

"_Go and get dressed," Sharon yelled. "And hurry," she continued._

_Ten minutes later Carla was being dragged by her arm to school. "I don't need this," her mum grumbled. "We'll have social behind our doors if you don't stop this attitude! Do you want to be carted off to some stranger's family? Because that's what will happen, young missy if you keep this up."_

_Even though Carla wouldn't admit it to her mother's face, she didn't think that would be such a horrible idea. "A different family might mean a new beginning," she thought. "I could have a chance at fitting in." As they approached the school, the faces she could see looking menacingly at her through the school gates only confirmed what she had been thinking. That said it scared her to even think of being separated from her little brother._

"_Come on let me see a big smile," their mother said as they approached the school, before ushering them forward towards the gates. _

_If at home Carla had feigned she was feeling ill, at lunchtime her stomach was in her mouth. Even though during class her tummy had started grumbling mercilessly, which had quickly led to sniggering and disparaging comments, as she stared at the food in front of her, her appetite had vanished completely._

_She lingered in class for as long as she could, until her teacher told her to scatter off into the foreboding playground. As she sauntered forward, a number of heads turned to watch her. Feeling the burn of their gaze, she slowly tried to creep away heading back inside aiming towards the restroom. Half way there, her passage was suddenly blocked. _

_From the corner of his eyes, Rob could see his sister behind a couple of girls from her year and that above her. He halted upon noting the sad gleam in her eyes. _

"_Come on Rob," one of his friends called out. He was about to give into a sprint when he saw Carla stumble backwards as one of the girls slammed her hands hard at her chest pushing her backwards. At just six years he couldn't understand what was going on. He'd seen a fair load of violence around the area they lived in, but he was still new to what was transpiring in front of his eyes and he couldn't quite join the two acts. _

_As Carla received another hard push backwards, she noted Rob gaping at the scene in front of him. She looked over her tormentors straight at him and tried to feign her best smile. He was the one person who she truly cared for, and she wished with all her heart that she could protect him from the ghastliness of the world that surrounded them. He returned her smile with a heart warming sweet beam that lightened up his face. Carla's smile had put his mind to rest and thinking it was just a game he quickly ran off after his friends. _

"_What are you smiling about you idiot?" one of them suddenly asked wiping Carla's smile off her face._

"_Loony," another one yelled from behind her._

"_Do you like being pushed?" another voice taunted, which was quickly met with a burst of laughter from the others that surrounded her. With that, another pair of hands slammed right through her body. Each slam was sucking her breath out of her chest, making her jump as she stumbled in the direction of the push struggling to keep her balance._

"_Do you think it's funny?" someone else asked._

"_She's gone mute," another piped up. _

_Carla's eyes travelled from one face to another. She felt small, powerless and inferior. From bitter experience she had learnt that it was better to bottle it all up inside. _

_Another push sent her slamming straight into the concrete wall. As they continued taunting and name calling, she could feel a bruise forming on the shoulder that had taken the last line of fire of their shoves. As they tired of competing between themselves on who threw the most hurtful, and most original adjectives, they shifted their last attack onto her legs, which soon sported two purple bruises._

Rob shifted his attention back to Michelle. "I used to look up to her. I could never understand where she got her strength from, but one day after the latest bust up... some people our parents owed had ransacked the house, her room included. They had burst into her room, breaking down the lock of her door. Her door couldn't be shut properly then, and I could hear her sobs from the corridor. Once I became aware of it, my ears became tuned to it, and I could hear her, day in day out," he told her as he recalled past memories. "She'd pretend everything was fine, but as her smiles grew bigger, so did her tears. Each shove, each betrayal, each hurtful comment, each broken expectation served as another block to the growing barriers she was building around her."

_As the days of her last year at elementary school approached, Carla was hopeful that this year would be better than previous years. A number of the girls who had taken up bullying her as their hobby had now moved to secondary school, and as the number of her tormentors decreased she grew hopeful that so would the hate and the disparaging comments towards her. _

_Over the summer holidays a new family had moved into their area. She had first spotted them unloading their van whilst she was on her grocery run. That morning, her mum hadn't budged when she had tried to wake her up, and her dad hadn't made it home in the last three days. Previously, Rob's small fingers had poked her in her sides waking her up from her comforting dreams. As she turned round to face him, she could hear his tummy grumbling. _

"_There's nothing to eat," he had said in his whiney voice._

_She lied on her side, with her head on her pillow, looking at her brother's adorable little face, as her lips curled to one side, forming a little dimple on her right cheek. She lifted a hand to his face and stroked his cheek tenderly. At just ten years of age, she was more of a mother figure to him than their own mother. Even though there were times their mother tried, and she'd never intentionally put them in harm's way, many-a-days her vices and addictions got the better of her and she'd often forget about the two children who still yearned for an ounce of love and care. It was her brother's innocent face that had got Carla out of bed and got her trudging through the drizzling rain to the nearest grocery store in a bid for some food. _

_She had paused to look around as they carried one box after another into the building that was two streets behind theirs. Each street made a huge difference around their area. A quick glance at the houses and apartments in the streets made it clear to any passersby. The differences could be clearly seen. Even though that street was still part of the rough estate Carla had grown up in, the lack of graffiti and broken windows contrasted with the houses in Carla's street, and the people living there often prided themselves and looked superiorly over those who were unfortunate enough to live in the streets behind them._

_As Carla looked on, a girl of around her same age had come out of the house and ran to the van to help out. As she picked up a small box, she noted Carla and gave her a shy smile before skipping back inside. _

_It wasn't long before the two girls started hanging around together. Louisa was more timid than Carla who put on different airs when outside the school gates. Being the new girl in town, often brought Louisa unwanted attention. Her cumbersome curly copper-coloured hair didn't help. _

"_Watch out for the fiery witch," the boys in the corner laughed as Carla and Louisa approached them._

"_Ignore them silly berks," Carla muttered._

"_Hey carrot top," they continued, as they got up and headed towards them. _

_Having grown used to this behaviour, Carla continued walking before realising that Louisa had halted in her steps. Carla knew the boys would feed off Louisa's fears. She gently held her friend's hand in her own, and tried to get her to move._

"_Oh back off Marc," Carla uttered, as they laughed at her and moved closer to them._

"_You don't want to be seen with the likes of people like her Carla," Marc replied._

"_What would they think if they saw you with Goldilocks here, ay?" another voice sniggered._

_Carla raised her eyebrows at that comment. "Oh you're one to talk ain't you? Hanging around with Baldilocks here," she said as she raised her head in Marc's direction._

"_Watch your mouth," the same voice piped up again, this time in a gruff tone spitting in her face._

_That incident had brought about a series of back lashing from the boys. Knowing what it felt like to be constantly under attack, Carla made it her mission to defend Louisa. Having grown up around them, their taunting and teasing didn't bother her or affect her as much as the ones at school did. Besides, the boys' taunts and teasing were rarely directed at her, and their glares and words weren't as malicious and hurtful as those she received at school. _

_However, although she had tried to hide it, her heart had thudded mercilessly in her chest when they had backed her into a fence and warned her off as they tried to save face in front of a group of their friends. Her retorts sometimes got her into trouble, as in moments like this. They had held her roughly by her shirt as her feet dangled below her. "Isn't your puppy with you today?" they had asked before letting her go. _

_By the time summer came to an end Louisa had started warming up to them, and their comments eventually ceased. Knowing that Louisa was set to be in her class, made the idea of going back to school less daunting. For once, she wasn't spending each night and morning dreading school, and two weeks in, Carla had started hoping that for once her wishes had been granted. Apart from the occasional comments which she tried her best to ignore, those two weeks hadn't been so bad. She wasn't waking up with new bruises or ending the day in tears._

_Rob had noted the change. As summer had come to a close and the school days had approached, he had grown apprehensive for his sister. But in the past two weeks, the minute they met after school was let out he had been greeted with her biggest most genuine smiles. Her eyes had that twinkle he had missed. _

_As another week approached its end, Rob waited for Carla and Louisa by the gates. His lips curled upwards as he saw his sister. He was surprised when he didn't see Louisa, and quickly looked up at Carla. As he was about to question her, he noted the washed up look on Carla's face. She forced on a smile for his sake, and as he took her hand he noted that the distant look in Carla's eyes had returned. They walked home in silence. When they passed by Louisa's house, he noted how her breathing hitched, and he held her hand tighter. She appreciated this gesture and in return caressed his hand with her thumb. No one but Rob had taken any note of Carla's pain. Neither her teachers, who were too busy petting the class favourites unaware of their vicious side, nor her mother. Their dad was barely ever home these days, and when he was he'd either be sat on the couch with a drink in his hand, or having another blazing row with their mother. Rob wished his mother would notice Carla's slouching shoulders, the way she held her head, the red veins crossing her eyes, the pained expression on her face, and realise what was going on. He wished their mother could be the motherly figure they always longed for her to be and make things right for Carla. He never knew what to do. She always smiled and lied through her teeth, in a futile attempt to protect him, telling him she was fine and everything will be alright. His wishes were quickly dashed as they arrived back home. Instead of being greeted with a hug and a kiss as he always dreamt of, they were greeted with a serious of huffs and snide remarks._

_Carla squeezed her eyes shut at the sight. Her mother was shaking fervently as she rumbled on a litany of words, half of which Carla didn't understand. She let go off her brother's hand and sent him to his room, as she scanned the room around her. The tiny, empty pieces of cling film strewn on the floor in front of her with traces of white powder on them, hinted at her mother's desperate situation. _

"_Have you taken any?" Carla whispered, staring at the floor, afraid of the answer she was going to get._

_Her mother snorted in reply, as she laughed in her face. _

"_What can I do?" Carla asked her, her voice quivering._

"_Just go to your room Carla," her mother slurred, as she attempted to grab her arm._

"_You need help," Carla muttered, her voice a whisper, as she blinked back her tears._

"_Get out of my face," Sharon suddenly shouted, making Carla jump before she ran to the solitude and comfort of her room. However, that comfort was soon broken. Her mind quickly started playing the day's events, and the tears she had forced back were suddenly flowing freely down her cheeks. _

_She was back in the noisy school corridor, walking alongside Louisa. She hadn't seen Stacey walking towards her, nor did she see her extend her leg out in her feet's way. She was suspended in air, her hands flinging out in front of her, being pulled towards the ground. She slammed down, chest first followed by her chin. Her jaw vibrated in its place and a dull pain spread like fire along it to her ears. Her face burnt up. Everyone had stopped to look. They stared at her for a few seconds, before someone let out a nervous burst of laughter. The whole corridor followed in. Her stomach felt a sharp thug as the laughter echoed in her ears. They looked at her, shaking their heads, before making their way towards their class. The snort of mirth that came from the person next to her stung her bitterly. Her muscles felt as though they were tightening around her insides, like a pair of sturdy hands clasping tightly around whatever lay beneath the flesh around her middle upper part of her body. Tears welled up in her eyes. Louisa's boots shuffled forward, walking towards Stacey. From her position, she could still see them, walking towards their classroom together with Stacey's arms around Louisa's shoulders._

_Carla's hand was gripping her legs tightly, whilst her other lay on top of her knees around her head which was pressed tightly into her knees. She yearned to get rid of the pain that was searing right through her chest. She wished to sever that enclosing claustrophobic throbbing slavering grip. She had been mortified, humiliated, her hopes slashed and killed, her dignity destroyed. But worst of all, the cruellest feeling of them all, was the cold, bitter, sharp bite of betrayal._

_As she moved up from her hunched up position, she heard the crunching noise of paper. Her hands slid to the pocket in her pinafore. She had nearly forgotten the note she had hidden there. At one point during class, whilst her teacher's back was turned she had been attacked by a slaughter of paper-made airplanes and rolled up papers. She had tried to ignore them, but when Louisa joined in, as she tried to blend in, Carla couldn't resist but open two of the notes. The same word had screamed out of them; 'LOSER'._


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N: My apologies for the delay in posting this chapter, but I'm currently swamped with Uni work. Thanks a lot for all your lovely reviews. Enjoy :)**_

* * *

9.

Upstairs, in Amy's room, the duvet was being trashed as Carla tossed and turned in Amy's bed. A layer of sweat was forming on her face and body, as her head moved aggressively from side to side. Her breathing hitched, and as she struggled to take in a deep breath she jolted upwards in her bed, her eyes springing open. Her hands were still shaking as she brought them up to her face as she tried to calm herself down. The unfamiliarity of her surroundings, along with the inability to remember how she got there, was not helping.

"Peter?" she whispered tentatively. Her body was one step ahead of her mind. The mere mention of that name had generated a dull throbbing ache in the space below her rib cage. As she slowly recuperated from her terrifying nightmare, her mind and memories started catching up with recent events. She hated the way his name was the first thing that had come to mind, as if she was his damsel in distress. She despised how weak he had made her feel. She loathed how she had let him create another slit in her safety net; a slit on the previous snag that she had only recently threaded back together; a slit that could easily spread and create further runs in the fabric of her net.

The face from her nightmare kept coming back to mind. It had been a while since she had last seen that smug look that made her stomach lurch, and the dark black slits that often replaced his eyes. Peter's protective, gentle arms had previously replaced Frank's filthy, rough hands that coursed a shiver down her spine, and turned her blood to lead, which in turn immobilised her limbs. She remained where she was, staring at the empty space in front of her, waiting for her heart to reduce its pace. She waited for her heart and breathing to give up the relentless torture, but each time they approached some sense of normality, his face would come back to mind, and her heart would start speeding up all over again. Her hands pressed tightly into her forehead, until she could bear it no longer. She was suddenly up onto her feet pacing around the room.

It wasn't long before she found her feet taking her downstairs, pulling her towards the two voices that could be heard. As she stopped behind the half closed door leaning against the wall outside the room listening in to what was being said, her mind stopped torturing her with images of Frank, but her heart was still thudding loudly in her chest.

"She was ever so secretive about her childhood," she heard Michelle say. "You know, she'd sometimes sit there listening to Paul and Liam go on and on about the things we used to get up to with this fascinating look on her face. I'd sometimes wonder why she never told them to put a sock in it."

"Was it too embarrassing for you?" he asked with a grin. "The stuff you used to get up to."

"Oh ha ha," she uttered in a sarcastic tone. "It's funny though init. The turn life takes. I feel ever so guilty now."

_Carla's loud laugh echoed across the hall of the youth club. Michelle pulled a face at her friends as she tried to mimic her. _

_Sitting on the sofa opposite her, Carla could see and hear Michelle, but she quickly tried to ignore her and instead focused all her attention on Liam, who was sitting next to her. No matter what she did, Michelle was always there trying to push her away. She'd constantly snub her in front of her brothers._

_Carla leaned towards Liam and whispered something in his ears. "She's pathetic," Michelle muttered upon seeing this. _

"_If you want to say something you can say it to me in my face Michelle," Carla suddenly snapped._

"_Be careful love you don't want to show everyone your true colours," Michelle retorted._

"_What is that supposed to mean?" Carla asked defensively._

"_Yeah you are as stupid as you look," Michelle scoffed as she looked her up and down._

"_Bit rich coming from you init?" Carla said, raising an eyebrow._

"_Come on girls," a voice from beside her piped up, almost bemused by the scene enfolding in front of him. _

"_No Liam," Michelle said as she stood up, "I want to see what she meant by that. She wishes to think that the world will bow down at her feet and everyone will quiver away just because she's got a flaming gob on her. But what she forgets," she continued looking directly at Carla, "is that each word that comes out from between those cracked lips which she covers with cheap tarty lipstick, is just a reflection of her pitiable, uneducated roots."_

_Carla stood up in front of her. She had had enough of Michelle's snubs. She had been trying to ignore her stinging comments for so long. "No you know what's pitiable, Michelle," she started. "You can pretend to be little miss perfect as much as you like, but word goes round love. Everyone knows you're constantly skipping from one bed to another. I'd be careful if I were you. I wouldn't want to tarnish my reputation, or having mummy dear find out her daughter's a slag." _

"_You what?" Michelle cried, as her hands landed a stinging slap across Carla's cheek._

"_Not so classy after all, ay," Carla scoffed, holding one hand over her red cheek, before walking off towards Luke and Suzie. _

"It took me a while to get to know her, and to try and understand her," Michelle admitted.

As they talked about the past, Carla darted through the corridors of her mind. Her attention fell on the image of her as a young girl. Half the time her past felt more like a dream. It was as though she was looking through the glass at someone else's life. That girl in the white shirt, grey woollen cardigan, black trousers, and worn out, faded, black shoes didn't look like her. She had traded the skirt that had been previously bought for a pair of second-hand trousers. There was only so many holes that she could fix before her tights became a right scruffy mess, and the weather made it impossible to go without them. It was already enough that her one pair of shoes, with a number of irregular holes in its soles, often left her shivering for the rest of the day. Even though years had passed when thinking about it, she could still feel the faded sting of the comments that were often thrown her way.

From the first time Suzie had dragged her along with her to Youth club, her eyes had immediately fallen on the Connors. Their bond, their banter, and their charm had attracted her attention. They offered something she had never experienced.

"_Oi you, aren't you at the very least going to come over and say hello?" someone's voice called out. It was only Suzie's nudge that made her realise that the boy with the mischievous glint in his piercing blue eyes was speaking to her._

_As she walked towards him with Suzie in tow, she was thankful for the layer of foundation, for it hid her blushing cheeks._

"_I'm Carla," she uttered awkwardly. Even though her loud mouth often endowed her with unwanted attention, she often tried to skirt away from crowds and keep to herself. She was grateful that so far, secondary__ school__ had offered her with a huge leap of difference from elementary school. Her bullying had subsided by a drastic amount. Even though she was still surrounded by a number of students from elementary school, some had found other interests, and by then she had managed to find her voice to try and wane them off. _

"_So she talks as well as gawps," he said with a foolish grin on his face._

"_I do not gawp," Carla retorted defensively, even though she knew she had been caught. Before he had the chance to comment, she quickly turned to Suzie, "and by the looks of it, he doesn't even have a name."_

"_Who's asking?" he asked. "Suz you still remember my name, don't you?"_

"_But of course," Suzie said with a laugh._

_The girl sitting next to him then looked up. She scrunched her nose as she gave Carla the one-over; a move which didn't go unnoticed. _

_Noting the sombre look that had suddenly taken over Carla's face, he stood up, and moved towards her. He bowed, as an impish grin lightened up his face. "It's nice to meet you Carla," he then said. "I'm Liam. Sir Liam to you," he continued as the three of them let out a smirk. _

A whisper from behind her startled Carla, and brought her back to the present. The feeling she had woken up with started to drum loudly in her chest in attempt to make itself heard. In a futile attempt to avoid the rush of anxiety she had previously experienced, she walked towards the back door, hoping that the fresh air would help her breathe. However, the dryness in her mouth was begging for a sip of something more colourful than water, and something that would quench this particular thirst much faster than simple H2O. The trip outside led to a walk towards Dev's, during which she rummaged through her pockets as she mentally kept her fingers crossed, hoping she'd find enough change. Less than five minutes later, as she hurried back towards Michelle's place with a white plastic bag held tightly in her hand, she was equally as distracted.

Leanne stopped her as Carla brushed past her in a huff. "Trouble in paradise?" she snickered as she called out after Carla.

It took Carla a few seconds to take note of her comment. She was about to ignore her when Leanne chortled at her expense. "Didn't take too long, did it?"

"We're not doing the nightly bulletin Leanne," Carla said, raising her head to look her in the eyes. "What goes on in my life doesn't concern you."

"Oh but it does, especially when you're carrying, what," she said as she took a closer look at Carla's bag, "two bottles of wine? What with your track record and the possibility of Simon being with you? When will you learn eh?"

"Change your tune Leanne," cried Carla. She paused before continuing, "You really ought to kiss your lucky stars today. You got your wish, didn't you?"

Leanne was stunned for a minute, but soon started crackling. "So what?" she asked Carla, curious to learn more. "What happened? Did it finally get too much for you?"

Leanne's laughter resounded in her head. It grew louder and louder, until the only other noise she could hear was her heavy breathing as she hurried towards the alleyway that led to the pub. Once there, she immediately flopped down onto the empty chair, quickly drawing one of the bottles she had just bought to her lips. Regardless of its cheap taste, she was grateful that she had managed to scrape just enough money to buy two of the cheapest bottles that Dev had. She downed down as much as she could in one single draw, as she yearned for the light-bodied ruby red wine in front of her to quickly replenish her body and take over her system.

One and a half bottles later, her hands felt as though they were made of cotton, but everything she felt before was still there prodding at her chest. She braved herself and made her way indoors, walking towards Rob and Michelle.

"Don't stop on my account," Carla said, as she plodded down onto the sofa, whilst they turned round to look at her.

"Have you been drinking?" Michelle inquired with a hint of surprise in her voice.

Carla shrugged. "So what if I have?" she retorted. "Why does everyone need to have a say in what I do?"

"Oi, you ok grumpy?" Rob jumped in, immediately regretting what he'd just asked her.

"Yeah, top of the world," Carla uttered. She looked at Rob, her eyes searching for his, "So tell me, do I need to start worrying each time I see flashing blue lights or hear a siren go off?"

"He was well out of it by the time I got there," Rob started. "Car, it might not be what you want to hear but you're well shot off him."

"Yeah," Carla started emotionlessly.

A whisper interrupted her.

"Carla?" the voice whispered. The word sounded jammed in his throat. It lacked a certain air of strength, and yet that one simple word was enough. Her ears started whizzing as her heartbeat increased drastically.

"No, please," her mind pleaded, her name and his voice still ringing as they travelled down the abyss of her mind.


	10. Chapter 10

10.

"Tell me you didn't," Leanne started as soon as Peter opened the door to his flat and she got a whiff of his breath. His head hang loosely on his neck, his eyes were red, and his shirt was all crumpled up.

"What?" he asked, as he tried to straighten himself up.

"Do you ever stop to think about anyone other than your pathetic self Peter?" she shouted angrily.

He turned his back on her and ignored her question. "Why are you here anyway?" he then asked breaking the silence.

"I saw Carla earlier," she started.

"Carla," Peter whispered, interrupting her.

She looked at him questioningly. "What did you do Peter?" she started, gentler than before. Peter's hesitation, along with the look on his face was enough proof that her suspicions were right. She looked at him closely and couldn't help herself. A chuckle escaped her lips. "Oh Peter," she started, "I really can't say I wasn't expecting that."

He peered at her, his nose scrunched up. "I thought you had moved on."

"That doesn't mean I don't find this laughable," she started, as he glared at her. "Come on, even you must have had a bit of a sneaky laugh behind her back. I mean, why did you do it if not for a laugh?"

"It was a mistake," he mumbled, as he poured himself another glass of the colourless substance that smelled like juniper tree. "A mistake."

"And do you really think that that drink would solve it all for you?" she asked. She walked closer to him and snatched the bottle which she emptied in the sink behind him.

"What are you doing?" he slurred before downing the remaining liquid in his glass down his throat.

"What do I look like I'm doing Peter?"

"I need it," he whinged.

"What you need is to sort yourself out," she said irritably. "For once in your life, think of Simon."

He looked at her as he ran a hand through his hair. "I've messed up," he mumbled, "I keep messing up. Carla, Si... you."

* * *

Back at the Rovers, Carla was still sitting quietly on the sofa. She could feel his eyes watching her. Meanwhile, Michelle and Rob were darting their gaze from each other to her, silently expressing their concern towards her. Their faces were etched with worry, and they felt helpless in face of her pain and distress.

"Oh come on," Carla suddenly piped up, upon finally catching the two of them staring down at her. "Who's eaten your tongues?"

"Carla," Rob started, his tone of voice hinting at his concern.

"Hold that thought," she uttered, lifting her hand to the level of her head. "So, seeing how you were reminiscing, have you told her yet?" A mischievous grin made its way across her face.

"Told me what?" Michelle asked intrigued.

"Wouldn't you like to know," Carla uttered. She paused as her face lightened up. "I'll make you a deal. A bottle of red in exchange for some invaluable information about our kid here," she continued, as she got up from the sofa and walked towards the table. "I have to warn you though; it's more of a ridiculously embarrassing little story."

"Okay, you got yourself a deal there," Michelle uttered as she looked at Rob. She wasn't sure another bottle would help Carla but it had been a while since she had seen her crack a smile on her face. Besides, she was certain that if she refused her a drink Carla would still find a way to get her hands on what she regarded as her poisonous medicine, and she would rather have her drink whilst she was with them than on her own.

* * *

"I need to get her back Lea," Peter muttered with tears in his eyes. "How am I going to do that when she doesn't even want to talk to me?" He paused before continuing, whinging and slurring his words. "I mean Tina, Tina? I was flattered, but I didn't love her. I love Carla. How could I have been so stupid eh?"

Leanne gaped at him. As much as she wanted to applaud Peter for his latest act of infidelity, her heart twanged for Carla.

"You really know how to play them. I have to hand you that," she finally uttered.

He slid down the cupboard onto the floor and brought his hands to his head. "What am I going to do?"

"For starters, you can just stop willowing in self pity and get your act back together," she said.

"I need..." Peter started.

"And stop whining Peter. You're doing my head in," she harshly said. "Don't forget you brought it all on to yourself, and no amount of tears or drinking will erase the past."

* * *

Halfway down the bottle, Carla's sombre look had returned.

"Oi you," Michelle uttered upon noting the distant gaze in Carla's eyes. "Don't forget our deal."

"Mmm," Carla muttered. Her hand rested by the side of her mouth, as she sat in a haze biting around the skin of her thumb.

"So come on sis," Rob prodded her, "I'm curious to see what you thought was so hilarious."

She averted her gaze towards him, but she was still miles away.

"Look at him," Michelle told Carla hoping for a reaction, "putting himself on the line like that."

Carla let out a little smile as she slowly pulled herself out of her reverie. She then looked at her thumb as if examining the damage she had induced on it.

"Come on then, spill," Michelle said.

"You're eager," Carla uttered, shifting her gaze on to her friend.

"Oh it never hurts to have something to hold over him," Michelle replied slyly.

"Ha ha," uttered Rob.

"You know he fancied you like crazy. And I mean it when I say crazy," Carla started.

"Yeah, go on. We had already established that," Michelle uttered with a grin on her face as she looked at Rob.

"I used to catch him role playing; imagining you were there," Carla said as she averted her gaze from Michelle to Rob. "Just practising what he'd say really, in hope he'd one day pluck the courage to speak to you without going beet red..."

"I did not," Rob intervened.

"Oh you so did," Carla replied with a smirk. "I'll have you know my memory is still quite intact."

"Who knew eh," Michelle jumped in. "You only had to say you know," she then told Rob with a laugh.

"You should have seen him," Carla continued much to Rob's dismay. "Do you remember David Tottle's birthday? He was over the moon for all of two hours. But then Dean came along snatching you away, and the poor kid got his heart broken for the very first time."

Rob looked at Carla with a horrified expression on his face. "You were always brilliant at exaggerating an..."

"Carla," the same husky voice suddenly interrupted, taking up all of her attention. "I'm still here." The hushed low rustled sound reached her ears as clearly as though he was standing right behind her, breathing the words straight into her ears. Even if his words were being muttered from a distance, that familiar loudness of that low non vocal tone still made her feel as though his warm breath was being breathed down her ear and neck.

Her skin suddenly felt cold and clammy as her heart started its torturous assault. His voice had the same effect as Medusa's face. Those five simple words were enough for her whole body, apart from her chest, to suddenly go as rigid as any inanimate object.

Rob and Michelle were still droning on, but their voices were dissolving away before reaching Carla. It was only when they directed a question towards her and mere silence was their sole response that they noted the fearful distant look in her eyes.

"Car what's wrong?" Rob asked as he placed his hand on her cold stiffly held hand. His question was met with further silence. "Car?" he tried again, as he looked worriedly at Michelle.

"Carla?" Michelle tried.

Her silence was slowly broken. "Mmm?" she asked slowly, as she broke her gaze and turned to look at the two of them.

"Carla, are you okay? What's wrong?" Michelle asked.

"Oh yeah, nothing another glass wouldn't fix," Carla muttered as she attempted a smile.

Rob furrowed his brow as he looked attentively at her. He made note of her put on smile, her shaking hand, her slight but sudden jump as soon as he placed his hand on her arm, and the way she gulped down what was left of the bottle of wine in one single swig.

"Slow down you," Michelle uttered.

Carla looked up at her. She was incredibly grateful for the pair of them, but the way Michelle and Rob were looking at her made her feel suffocated. She yearned for her own private space away from everyone's watchful stare. As she debated with herself what should be her next move, she made a mental note to start looking for a new place to live in. This whole situation was serving as one big time capsule that was taking her back to times, memories and places she didn't wish to revisit. Her current dilemma reminded her of her teenage years, to the countless times she wanted to run away from home but had nowhere to go to. Even though her bank flow statement had undergone a major improvement, right at that moment she felt as homeless as she used to feel back then. In her teenage years, her home was never the warm protective place a home should be. It was the place she was embarrassed to bring her friends to, the reason for her bullying, a place she felt unwanted and unloved. The more her time outside home improved, the prospect of going back home became more and more daunting. Many a times thinking about it would fill her teenage self with dread and fear; fear that she'd arrive back home to find that her mother had overdosed, that the place would be swarming with police, or that people her parents owed would have ransacked the whole place. When George came along, she started dreading it even more than before. One cold domineering look from him was enough to make her scurry away feeling less wanted than the repugnant flies; the black flying bodies that often found themselves indoors after being invited in by the rank smell of open beer bottles and half eaten dinners that often littered their kitchen. Her home then became the place where slaps were often thrown her way if she so much as placed one foot out of line.

Liz's voice then interrupted her thoughts. "Michelle, can you come help out behind the bar," she asked.

"Coming," Michelle said as she looked reluctantly at Carla and Rob before heading out behind Liz.

"Come on then," Carla started, "what was it like yesterday?"

"What?" Rob asked her.

Carla raised an eyebrow. "When you went round to the flat?"

"Haven't we already been through that."

"Err, we've barely even approached the subject," Carla retorted.

"There's nothing to say," he said whilst shrugging his shoulders. "I went there, he was drunk, we exchanged a few words, not that his made any sense, gave him your ring, and that's it."

"And?" Carla asked. "That's not typical you, is it? You were always at each other's necks. You can't expect me to believe that nothing else happened."

"Believe what you will," Rob told her as he reached for her hands. Carla's head tilted sideways as she looked him in the eyes. Her teeth bit on the inside of her side mouth as she tried to assess whether to believe him or not. "Okay, look," he then said, "he might owe me a bruise or two. Nothing serious, or that he didn't deserve though."

Carla shook her head as she rubbed her temple with her free hand. "I knew it. I knew he'd say something and you'd end up in each other's hands. So what was it then?"

"Wasn't his mug enough of a provocation?" he said angrily. "Hasn't he done and said enough already, what more do you want him to say? He wasn't making sense anyway. Every ridiculous word that was coming out of his gob was coming out slurred."

Carla gave a small worried smile and let out a deep breath. "I guess I should be thankful you didn't kill him ay."

The noisy babble from the pub filled in the silence that soon settled between them. Rob's eyes were still held on Carla's downcast glance. It pained him to see her like that. Never had he wished that he'd be proven wrong more than on the night of Carla's wedding. He had never seen his sister look at someone with as much revere as she did with Peter. As he looked at her, he suddenly grew apprehensive of the distant look in her eyes that accompanied her slouched shoulders. She had already startled him once that day and he wasn't ready to lose her again.

"Penny for them," he muttered.

She looked up, her eyes meeting his. They tenderly held each other's gaze, as he tried to saunter behind the surface of what usually met his eyes. She looked away before she spoke.

"I think I'm going to go rest my feet. Sleep off the effect of this wine," she mumbled, hoping he'd take her hint. "I need to start putting my life back together, find somewhere of my own."

"I could check whether my old flat is still vacant if you want," Rob offered.

Carla smiled. "Ta."

"Are you sure it's a good idea though?"

"I've been through break ups before, you know," she told him trying to put his mind at ease even though she knew this was different. "I'm a world expert at all this. I don't need babysitting."

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before standing up and made ready to leave. "Take care of yourself, yeah," he said, as he paused next to the door, giving her a warm gentle smile.

As Carla was left alone, silence radiated round her. Except for the occasional clinking of glasses and the distant babble of voices nothing else could be heard, and Carla was grateful for that moment of peace, where her actions, or rather the lack of them, weren't being observed and scrutinised. Trying to hold herself up onto her two feet, she made her way towards the sofa. No sooner had she settled down, the very same voice as before startled her. Her back quickly jolted upwards, and her head swung from one side to another as her eyes scanned the room.

His chuckling sent a shiver down her spine, as her eyes widened and her pupils dilated.

"We don't have till forever Carla," he whispered, each syllable rustling out of his lips making her jump and her breath hitch as each word reached her ears. "Looks like it's been a while since you last played hide and seek."

Her eyes followed the voice, finally pausing on the pair of shiny black shoes hiding in the shadows behind the half opened door. "Frank?" she breathed, as each letter that formed that cursed name got stuck in her throat. She stared at them—that very same pair that she had tried to ignore and erase from the corner of her sight the night he attempted to break her spirit, and the other subsequent nights and days when her mind kept torturing her with that tormenting memory. She willed herself to breathe. She willed herself not to show him the power he still exerted on her. She slowly and reluctantly willed herself to raise her eyes towards his face; towards that smug smile, and those dark cruel glinting eyes. It took all she had to retain her gaze, and not break down under his watchful stare. Memories flashed in front of her eyes. She had never experienced fear the way she had the night he had slammed her back into the door. Not even when Tony had held a gun to her head, or held her in his unyielding arms as the scorching flames soured around them. The malignant look in his eyes had burnt into hers as his fingers pinched her arms leaving five bright red circles as a souvenir of that night. She could still see the delight in his eyes as she cried out in pain and pleaded for him to stop his torturous assault; the way they had sparkled malevolently as they greeted back her gaze after he had forced her to open her glistening eyes as his grimy hands violated her body. His stare was making her feel vulnerable and exposed as it reminded her of the last time his eyes had locked themselves on hers as he had looked at her suggestively and viciously as he threatened to do it all again.

As she looked at him, her eyes shadowed the confusion in her head. She attempted to rub her eyes, trying to erase him from her sight. He laughed at the look of horror on her face upon her realisation that she hadn't been as successful as she thought she'd be.

"Just in case you're wondering, I'm not a ghost Carla. I'm very much alive," he uttered as he took a few steps forward.

Carla let out a nervous laugh. "You can't be. I was there. I saw them taking you away," she said shakily. "I was at your funeral. Your mother's in prison for it. She admitted it to me. You can't be."

He walked further towards her. "Do you really want to see how alive I am?" he asked her smugly.

She leaned as far backwards as she could, her back pressed tightly into the back of the sofa. He smiled smugly as he noted her reaction, and took a step closer to her.

Fearful tears coated the surface of her eyes. "Take one step closer and I'll scream. There's a pub full of people. You won't get away with it Frank," she muttered, as she tried to put on the strongest voice she could muster.

His callous laugh returned. "Do you think I'd still be here by then?" he asked her. "All they'll see will be you, crying wolf again."

He stepped forward as he held her gaze.

"Don't," Carla uttered through her teeth.

"They think I'm dead, Carla," he paused before continuing, "...as you conveniently pointed out. No one would believe you. They'd just laugh in your face, and discredit you further."

She shook her head as she spoke. "They know what you did."

He leaned his head forward as he sniffed in her direction, before looking around and letting out a chuckle. "Do you think the empty bottles and the whiff of wine in your breath would help your case?"

She glared at him. She was still unable to believe that he was standing right there in front of her as though he'd never left.

"Tell me, did you think I'd just let you get away with it?"

"Get away with what?" she asked back, as a hint of anger seeped through her voice.

"That I wouldn't come back?" he continued.

Carla shook her head. "You're dead Frank. You're dead," she uttered, as convincingly as she could. She didn't know who she was trying to convince the most, whether it was her or Frank.

She heard the resounding clap and the ringing in her ears before she registered what had happened. She hadn't seen his hand moving hastily in the direction of her face. The stinging slap took her completely by surprise. Her eyes watered involuntarily as she pressed her hand onto her cheek and tried to rub at the area his grubby hands had landed on.

He smirked as he observed her. "Do you still think I'm not really here?" he questioned complacently. "Is that proof enough for you?"


End file.
